


Let's Skate

by RunawayCaboose



Series: Punk Isn't Dead [3]
Category: Sing Street (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Discussion of addiction, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Skating, Unsafe Skating Methods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayCaboose/pseuds/RunawayCaboose
Summary: Eamon's cute, Darren is admiring, Conor has no balance. All in all, that adds up to a more than sub-par skateboarding experience.





	

Eamon shows up at the bookstore the next afternoon at the same time, looking a strange combination of confident and anxious at the same time. 

“No dress today?” Darren is leaning across the counter, head perched on his palm. “I mean, nothing against this style, you look rad, but no dress?”

“No dress.” Eamon confirms, nodding and smiling slightly. He’s not wearing a dress, no, but dark jeans and a denim jacket and he looks adorable, but also like he wouldn’t want to be called adorable, so Conor refrains. “I don’t wear a dress when I skate, I don’t want to tear up my leggings. I mean, torn stockings are a look and all, but I prefer to tear them with purpose, not because I fell on some concrete.”

“Skating?” Darren asks, amused. “Do you rollerblade? You look like you’d roller blade.” Eamon shakes his head and lifts his skateboard so it’s visible to both of them over the counter.

“Conor said he wanted to skate together at some time and I was already close to here, so…” He trails off, looking at Conor. “Unless it’s a bad time, we can reschedule, or just schedule, I guess, because I kind of just showed up unannounced.”

“Hey, it’s good, I can go. Darren owes me so much, he’ll be glad to cover me.” Conor glares at Darren, who just sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Well, good luck skating, Mr. ‘I can’t stand on a step stool because I’m afraid that I’ll lose my balance and break my arm again’.” Darren retorts, not even trying to dodge Conor’s light punch. Eamon looks both scared and suspicious.

“Did that really happen?” Eamon asks, slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid that he’s saying the wrong thing. “Because maybe skating isn’t the best for you.”

“It did happen, but only because Darren, your good old boy, threw a book at me.” Conor explains and Eamon raises his eyebrows, purses his lips, a hundred more questions on the tip of his tongue. “Relax, it was years ago. In the school library, even. My arms fine now. And my balance is kind of better.”

“Okay, just stop talking about your balance before I decide this was a bad idea.” Eamon waves his hands at both of them. “This was supposed to be a good time, stop making me nervous.”

“You heard the man, Darren, stop making him nervous.” Conor looks pointedly at Darren, who rolls his eyes again and hands Conor his messenger bag.

“Get out of my shop, you weirdos.” Darren says, slightly threatening. “Go skate. Conor, don’t break your damn arm again or I’ll break your other one.”

“Whatever.” Conor scoffs, shouldering his bag and walking around the counter. He takes Eamon’s arm and Eamon stiffens slightly, but relaxes into his touch. “Let’s go.”

“Have him back by eleven!” Darren calls after them, words half cut off by the closing of the door.

“You know where the skatepark is, then?” Conor asks and Eamon looks at him, one eyebrow quirked. “Okay, dumb question, of course you do. Punk.”

“Was that a compliment or an insult?” Eamon laughs, Conor tightens his grip on Eamon’s arm. “You nerd. You tall, tall nerd.”

“Hey, shut up, okay, it’s not my fault that you’re short.” Conor teases, ruffling Eamon’s hair with his free hand.

“Hey, man, I spend time on that.” Eamon smooths his hair back down, only for Conor to muss it again. “You’re horrible.” He smooths it back down. “Truly.” Conor runs his fingers through it again. “Okay, I give up, whatever. I don’t have to put up with this.”

“Yes, you do.” Conor pokes Eamon lightly. He’s really just trying to be annoying now. “You can’t get away from me. You’re trapped here. Forever.”

“You want to bet?” Eamon asks, smirking. And then he has dropped his skateboard on the ground and slipped his arm out of Conor’s grasp and is flipping Conor off while he rolls down the sidewalk. Conor stands for a few moments afterwards, surprised, bewildered. And then he realizes that he doesn’t know where the skate park is, so he takes off after Eamon, sprinting down the sidewalk. 

The skate park isn’t really that far away, but Eamon is there already, leaning against a wall with his skateboard under his arm, when Conor finally gets there, breathing heavily and leaning on Eamon.

“I don’t like you very much.” Conor manages in between breaths.

“Sure you do.” Eamon shrugs, trying his best to look innocent, but he keeps smiling so he’s not really pulling it off well. “Why don’t you stay here for a few minutes and catch your breath while I show you some of my tricks?”

“Dirty tricks like skating away from me?” Conor asks, then shakes his head. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.” Eamon grins, setting his skateboard down and putting one foot on it. “You’re not going to wear a helmet, are you?”

“I mean, no? I’m not. I’m really good at skating and I’ve got better balance than you, trust me.” Eamon promises, Conor just huffs. 

Eamon does skate for a few minutes and he is really quite good, Conor has to admit. He doesn’t really do much, just kind of skates close to Conor and tries to explain what he’s doing, but keeps trailing off and losing his train of thought to focus on his foot placement. 

Eamon eventually does stop, jumping off his board and placing one foot on it to stop it from rolling away. He raises an eyebrow towards Conor.

“Your turn.” Eamon grins, looking much too eager. Conor is beginning to think that maybe Eamon just wants to see him fall. Conor sighs, but steps away from the wall, intent on getting on Eamon’s skateboard when Eamon holds up a hand. “Woah there, buddy, I may be able to skate without a helmet, but you’re not. There’s one in my bag.” Eamon points to his backpack, black and big, sitting right next to Conor’s. Conor opens it, pulling out a dark grey helmet. “I know it doesn’t exactly fit with your ‘cool dad’ aesthetic, but you’ve got to be safe.” Conor nods, buckling the strap under his chin.

Conor really isn’t good at skateboarding. At all. He doesn’t have the tiniest bit of talent or balance or coordination or anything that you need to be good at skateboarding. His horrible balance, however, does give him an excuse to hold Eamon’s hands as Eamon tries to keep him from falling flat on his face. Conor never does fall, but he comes close a couple of times and ends up slamming his face into Eamon’s chest.

They take a break after a while of skating and no progress on Conor’s part. They get tacos from a food truck and sit on the concrete of the skatepark, legs crossed. Conor gets sauce on his hand and dumps his messenger bag out with the other one, searching for a napkin, which he eventually finds among the complete mess of pens and crumpled pieces of paper. 

“Do you smoke?” Eamon sounds worried and for a few seconds, Conor has exactly no idea where he got that idea, and then he spots the pack of cigarettes, nestled between a pocket-sized book of poetry and a small calculator.

“Oh! No, I don’t. Tried once, hated the taste of it. Darren must have slipped them in here when I wasn’t paying attention.” Conor shakes his head, pushing things back into his bag. “And Darren, he doesn’t even smoke a lot. Once every few months when he gets really stressed, but he’s cut back a lot in the years I’ve known him, he’s trying to quite. Why, do you?”

“No.” Eamon shakes his head. “I don’t do stuff like that, I’ve got what’s been called an ‘addictive personality’.” Eamon makes air quotes with his fingers around the words. “Or, simply put, nicotine addictions run in my family, so I can’t really even try it once, not that I’d want to. But it does hurt my punk reputation, just a little bit, just like me not drinking.”

“Is that in the same boat as the cigarettes?” Conor asks, turning the pack over in his hands, running his thumb along the edge.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Eamon laughs and Conor’s not quite sure why. They lapse into silence for a few moments before Eamon clears his throat, stands. “I’m going to go home now, but this has been a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

“Me too.” Conor agrees. “Seeing you again, I see me enough. Next week, then?”

“Depends on my work schedule, honestly.” Eamon shoulders his bag, smiling down at Conor. “But, I’ll definitely be in your shop again, so we’ll make plans then, okay?”

“Okay.” Conor agrees, grinning. Eamon hesitates before leaving for a few seconds, like he’s going to lean down and kiss Conor, but he just nods and walks away, waving over his shoulder. 

**Author's Note:**

> a third part! finally!! as always, thank you for reading, i hope you liked it! you can find me on tumblr @ realaristocrat.tumblr.com


End file.
